


Insecurities And Trauma Go Hand In Hand

by TheLanceShow



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Dark, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Hurt No Comfort, I Love My Babies, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Men Crying, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad, Sad Lance (Voltron), Sad bois, Sadism, Suicide Attempt, Triggers, angry lance, worried team
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-01-30 05:04:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12646668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLanceShow/pseuds/TheLanceShow
Summary: Lance, as of late, has been dealing with very intrusive thoughts. Not like it's new or anything. But with his meds on Earth, the duty of trying to save the entire universe, and the whole Lion situation, things get tough.Old memories, though always at the back of his mind, resurface.And, hey, Lance is best at putting on a mask. Might as well do so for the rest of his life despite lingering glances at knives or air locks.





	1. The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Haha yeah so we're just pretending everything is hunky dory and Keith didn't leave the fUCKING TEAM BECAUSE ONE CAN ONLY HANDLE SO MUCH ANGST
> 
> PLEASE, READ:
> 
> If you'd like to skip the rape scene, stop at the italics and pick up where they end.

Everyone has at least a single problem with themselves. Lance knows this; most people do. Even someone who may seem the most self-assured can have tough days.

Lance is a people pleaser by nature. To appease to an audience, one must observe. Find out--the minimum being one--insecurities. Whether it be big or miniscule, he, in the end, wants to see people happy.

The castle is filled with problems regarding the Paladins and their roles.

Hunk. He was afraid of judgement the most. Having been BFFLs their entire lives, Lance knows why. Hunk was always seen as a fat joke waiting to happen with bullies. Always expected to make silly comments about food and whatnot. It is one of the reasons Lance pulls attention to himself; so Hunk doesn't have the unwanted spotlight on him.

("I seriously wanted to be the head."

"You want people depending on you?" Lance asked with a worried tone. "You realize what that means, right?"

Hunk sighed with a resigned quirk of his lips. "Yeah, I hear ya. Maybe it's a good thing big and buff Shiro is leading."

"That jawline can cut through Galras like a hot knife through butter," Lance joked, nudging Hunk in the ribs. His best friend laughed and Lance's sighed inwardly; crisis averted.)

Pidge was the most afraid of failure. He could see it in the hunch of her shoulders when she was looking for Matt and her father. The way she continued on after only her brother was found. The way she would slump, her face pink with disappointment, when she couldn't quite crack a code.

("Pidge, you have ti-"

"No, I don't!" Pidge snapped at him. Lance leveled her with an uncharacteristically hard glare. "Don't look at me like that! Lance, I don't have time."

Lance gripped her shoulders tight, tipping his chin to look down at her. He spoke softly, "Listen. You've been awake upwards of what is close to 48 hours. You can't do anything productive if you fall asleep every thirty seconds."

Pidge opened her mouth to reply but Lance pulled her in for a hug. He squeezed lightly and small arms tentatively wrapped around his torso.

"I want you to get at least ten hours of sleep," he murmured into her hair. "Then you can try to track the cloaked Galra ship. Maybe it's a big deal to you if it doesn't pan out well, but not to us. Because guess what? You're the smartest techie I've ever met."

"Thanks," she said thickly. "I promise I'll sleep."

The next day, the ship was revealed thanks to Pidge. They managed to raid the vessel, blow it up, and hand out supplies to people in need that were in the coalition.

While handing out crates, Lance looked over to Pidge with a warm grin. She beamed back at him in response.)

Shiro was the easiest to crack. Letting people down. Not his close friends, heaven's no. His real friends knew what he was really like. Knew that Shiro snorted water out of a straw, trying to shoot water through his eye like Lance did, only to choke horribly as the water went to his trachea. Knew that Shiro has awful bouts of PTSD. Knew what Shiro looked like when he was mad over something petty.

No, it was letting down strangers. Specifically, strangers who have this big idea of Voltron in their heads. He assumes the people they visit expect grandeur and amazing people. So Shiro puts on his game face 24/7 despite the rare carefree moments the team sees.

(Lance watched Shiro from across the room intently. His shoulders were tense and jaw raised in pride. Lance had learned long ago that Shiro put on a façade just as Lance did.

He watched as Shiro spoke to locals in polite yet business manner. Keith was speaking to diplomats with Allura, looking bored out of his mind.

Yet he stayed focussed on Shiro. Keith shook hands with the other leaders before waving his hand. Lance, Pidge, and Hunk stopped playing a game they were participating in with the aliens species.

"Sorry, guys! We have to leave. Voltron will keep you safe, though. I promise!" Lance walks towards the castle, staring at Shiro. He gives a polite goodbye to the adult natives before he walks in after Pidge and Hunk. Allura and Keith follow soon after.

Once the castle doors are shut, all of their shoulders slumped. Even Allura, always so straightback and regal, let her spine sag.

All except for Shiro. Lance took it upon himself to get him to relax.

He grabs one Pidge's and one Shiro's wrists and drags them towards the kitchen. Everyone, ever curious as to what Lance will foolishly do next, follow.

Shiro doesn't bother to protest, letting himself be guided gently into a chair. Lance all but flings Pidge into a chair.

"Competition time," Lance stated, grabbing two water pouches and placing one in front of Pidge and Shiro. He grabs an odd looking blade before cutting the pouches open.

"Is now really the time," Keith deadpanned. He looked deceased on his feet but Lance nodded anyway. 

"Yes. Wanna know why? Because our former leader is being a--pardon my French-"

"What's 'French'?" Allura asked.

"-totally inconsiderate asswipe."

"I beg your pardon?" Shiro gaped at Lance, expression disappointed and incredulous.

"Hey, watch it. You are the only one who hasn't relaxed yet and I can tell by the tension in your shoulders and spine." He spills the water into separate puddles. Bless Altean technology, it doesn't spill over the edge. "Here's what's going to happen. You and Pidge will compete to lap up water from your puddles. Whomever wins gets to punch me in the face."

Shiro was obviously about to object but Pidge said, "oh, it is on!" and began to lick the table mightily. Shiro squawked, working on his own to apparently "stop a conflict of interests."

It turned out that Shiro was absolutely determined to avoid Lance getting punched in the face. He won, patted Lance on the head, and muttered "good job."

Because now his shoulders were relaxed, his dimples showed when he grinned, and a fond look in his eye appeared as he gazed at Lance for a moment.)

And Keith. Little old Keith lost his way.

He was insecure about being abandoned. It wasn't as easy to read as Lance had hoped. In reality, because Keith seemed to love to push people away. It was after he had seen Keith's vlog that he realized what the problem was. 

("You ready to go?" Hunk asked, directing the question to Lance and Pidge. 

"Hell yeah," Pidge said with a grin. Lance was about to respond when he saw Keith standing in the doorway. His expression was guarded and honestly a little bitter.

The Garrison trio had decided to explore the planet on their own. Shiro and Allura had gone to speak with the leaders of the planet. It occurred to Lance that if they left, Keith would be alone on the ship. He pressed his lips together before staring at Keith.

"What?" Keith snapped. Lance gave him a small and friendly smile.

"You wanna come with us?" Lance felt his smile widen when Keith's scowl softened.

"No."

"Well, guess we're all gonna have to admit it; Keith is a _pussy_. Too scared to explore without the team leader."

Keith gasped indignantly, a playful fire in his eyes sparking. "Wanna fucking bet?"

It was later that day when Keith approached Lance. With a flushed face and twinkling eyes, he said gently to Lance, "Thanks for... You know. Inviting me to your quote-unquote exposotion."

Lance pulled him onto a hug with a grin. "You can join us anytime.")

So, yeah. All of them have their own little issues. But Lance figured them out and knows when he should say or do things at certain times.

Lance doesn't know how to deal with his own. No-one ever tried to cheer him up like he did with them.

Mostly, it would be the fact that he feels like he'll never be enough.

Maybe he shouldn't be a Paladin.

But, hey, Lance knows why. Why these insecurities started in the first place, why they're coming back now.

As if what happened at home wasn't enough, the Garrison was bad as well. Constantly, he was reminded that he would never be as good as Keith Kogane.

So fucking what? No shit. 

But at the same time, it confused him. It meant that he was so close to getting into Fighter Pilot rank that he skimmed it. Or those people happened to just barely get higher grades.

Lance remembers complaining to Hunk all the time about it. It didn't make sense to him.

He wasn't a fucking fill-in for Keith. He was his own person and Lance wasn't even half bad at flying. Sure, when he tried to do some stupid trick he crashed the simulator. But he also knew how to lead, which is something the Great Kogane didn't really know how to do.

He was able to brush it off, though, because of his medication.

Hell, he carries his meds on him all the time. In the Great expanse of space, he had his antidepressants. 

But they only lasted for half a year.

"Cargo pilot" Keith had once called him.

Now, here he is, curled up in a ball on his bed. He had been doing so goddamn well without popping pills. Then, then Allura had to go and take the blue lion. Red was great; really, she is. The problem is that Shiro is back, and Red belonged to Keith, and Keith is in Black, and what the fuck is he going to do?

He confided in Keith, sure. 

"Leave the math to Pidge."

Keith, dude, you suck at comforting people.

The castle alarms blare, Allura's voice echoing through his room.

"Paladins! Surprise training sequence starts now! I've sent Gladiators to your rooms. Get dressed and hurry, please!"

Lance sighs, slowly sitting up. Immediately, he's hit with vertigo. He topples over the side of his bed, groaning loudly.

Yep, he's feeling it today.

He doesn't know how long he lays on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Suddenly there's a very loud knocking on his door. It sounded like a staff ramming against his door.

Shit.

Lance scrambles up, grabbing his bayard from under his pillow. It turns into two pistols just as the Gladiator bursts in.

He shoots, and shoots, and shoots some more, but lands no hits due to his dizziness and exhaustion. In the end, he gets pummeled into a god damn pulp.

"Fuck!" He curses, and his bayard turns into a spear. He blocks a hit going to his head and jumps to his feet, vaulting over his weapon and getting a solid push of his feet to the Gladiator's head. It breaks off, falling to the ground.

He collapses on the floor to his knees, panting as his bayard goes back into its usual harmless form. Every breath he takes makes his ribs hurt, every move of his arms aching and stinging from exertion and new bruises. Very slowly, he grabs it and trudges to the training room.

When the doors open, his team, Shiro, and Coran are all staring at him. They flash faces of disappointment before they soften into concern.

"Lance?" Shiro asks, walking forward. He's in his Paladin armor; Lance doesn't know how they produce the armor, honestly. "Are you all right?"

"...Yeah," he says with a shrug. He doesn't hide his wince in time. "I'm great."

Shiro touches his cheek, frowning when Lance bites his lip to suppress a whimper. "You're not okay."

"I-I'm fine." Lance turns his attention to Allura. "What are we doing today?"

" _You're_ not doing anything," she says, voice worried. It grates on Lance's nerves because, really, who is she to judge how well he can do something. Lance doesn't judge them and they should return the favor. "You should rest. Maybe go into the healing pod for a few doboshes."

Lance manages to take a deep calming breath. Hunk beats him to it.

"I think that if Lance says he's okay, then he's okay," he mumbles. His face is troubled though.

Oh, if only he knew how many times Lance had fakes a smile or a laugh. He feels so fucking alone in this castle.

Lance smiles tightly, going to raise his bayard in his left hand. His wrist bends slightly and suddenly he's yelping in pain, falling to his knees. The adrenaline has left and replaced the numbness of his wrist with hurt.

They all stop training that day.

 

Lance thinks about it a lot. An overwhelming amount, honestly. It started when he was about sixteen. The first time it happened, that is.

_Anthony is at the house. He's finally back and Lance is so incredibly happy. After the divorce with his sister, Lance thought he would see his ex-step-brother again._

_But there he is when Lance opens the front door. All amber eyes and tossled strawberry blond hair. Lance launches himself at him with disbelieving giggles._

_"Anthony!"_

_"Lance!" He shouts louder, wrapping his arms around Lance. He breathes in heavily, smelling the familiar scent of the sea and green apple. "Miss me?"_

_"So much, man!" Lance pulls away slightly and jumps when he sees the intensity in his eyes. "How long are you staying?" He says slowly with a squint._

_"Long as your mom lets me." Anthony pulls away, the scent of familiarity going with him yet lingering. Lance closes the door. "Says as long as Maria and I behave ourselves."_

_"That's super duper great!" Lance chirps. He hasn't quite grown in a while and Anthony is a good head taller than him. "Wanna hang out?"_

_"Yeah. Let's play some video games in your room."_

_Lance furrowed his eyebrows. "Why my room?"_

_"You don't want to set it up down here, do you?" Anthony smiles sweetly. It turns dark the moment Lance turns around and heads to the stairs._

_They're in Lance's room when he startles, feels a hand on his waist. He looks over his shoulder, the predatory look on Anthony's face getting creepier by the second. He steps away, turning to him fully._

_"Are... What's wrong?" As soon as the words leave his mouth, he doesn't want to know. He wants to leave, **needs** to leave. Something doesn't feel right._

_"Nothing. Nothing is wrong." Anthony shrugs. "Well, nothing will be wrong. If you cooperate."_

_"Wha--ow!" Lance shrieks when Anthony roughly pushes him onto the bed. He bounces a bit, sternum aching. "What the Hell, dude?"_

_Anthony closes the door, locking it. "Take off your pants."_

_All of the air in his lungs leave in a sharp exhale. "What?"_

_"I said," he starts. He undoes his belt, removing it from the loops. "Take off your pants."_

_"No," Lance shakes his head, swinging his feet from the bed and landing his feet on the floor. "If you take a step closer to me, I'm calling Ma."_

_It happens abruptly; Anthony shoves a sock down his throat, ties his hands with the belt, and slaps him across the face._

_"You or your little cousin?"_

_There are tears running down his face as Anthony tosses him to the bed once more. He shakes his head, clenching his eyes shut and squeezing his legs together. He can barely hear the sound of clothes shuffling._

_"Your cousin? AJ?"_

_Lance shakes his head, a heaving and silent sob wracking through his body as Anthony unzips his boots._

_"You?"_

_Frantic nods and Lance can hear him tossing his shoes somewhere in the room. Maybe if he keeps his eyes shut, it won't be as bad. Lance flinches when he feels hands on the zipper of his pants. He kicks out, knows he lands a solid foot to Anthony's face._

_His eyes fly open when a harsh hand pulls him from the bed and onto the floor. Pain blossoms in his side when Anthony kicks him twice, three times._

_He's whimpering as Anthony pulls down his pants, when he tears through his underwear, when Anthony praises how big he is, when Anthony tries to give him an erection, when he blames him for not being hard because he's being fucking **raped** , when Anthony forces him to keep his eyes open as he chokes the shit out of him._

_When Anthony goes in raw._

_When he spills his vile seed into him._

_Anthony cleans himself up and Lance watches through hazy eyes. He's curled up into a ball on the floor, shaking. The only reason hes stopped crying is because he's too dehydrated to produce any tears._

_Anthony takes his belt from around Lance's wrists. He slips it on as if nothing had happened. Lance can't take the sock out of his mouth; he'll start screaming._

_"You might wanna go to a doctor," he says. "There was some blood and tearing. Clean yourself up."_

_He leaves the room quietly and leaves Lance to weep. Because the very reason why Maria broke it off with Anthony--as she only confided in him--was because he has AIDS and didn't tell her. Which is a felony._

_Despite the crippling pains and aches in his body, Lance manages to make it to his bathroom before vomitting. He tries his best to empty himself, scrub himself clean with scorching hot water, but can't seem to get it together enough to even **pretend** he's okay._

_Pathetic, a voice whispers in his head. But no, he's not. He's strong, he can do this._

_He's crying without tears as he looks up the number._

_"Suicide hotline. We care, so please tell us what's wrong."_

Lance is shaken awake urgently. Hunk stands above him, face the epitome of concerned. He sits up, wiping at his face, knowing his cheeks are wet from crying.

"What's up?" He asks tightly. "Something wrong?"

"You, uh. You were crying in your sleep. And screaming. It sent Shiro into an attack so Keith told me to wake you up. To make sure you're both okay."

"Oh," he breathes. He blinks at Hunk for a moment. "Is he okay now?"

"Yeah, but... are you?"

Lance hesitates, takes a steady breath. Looks Hunk in the eye.

"No. And I honestly don't think I'll ever be again."


	2. Melded Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lance," Anthony cooes. "I've missed you. Why haven't you visited me?"
> 
> "I fucking hate you," Lance hisses. He manages to get a foot to move backwards. "Get the Hell away from me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ay this chapter is dark

Hunk stares at Lance long enough for him to shuffle out of bed. With a sigh, he goes to the bathroom. Hunk trails behind him, clearing his throat as Lance picks up the alien equivalent of a toothbrush.

"What do you mean?" He asks, voice small. Lance closes his eyes briefly in agitation before he turns to his friend. He smiles apologetically.

"Dude, I was kidding," he placates. Hunk's eyebrows go flat. "Bad joke, I know. Just a nightmare."

"That's not funny, dude. I was really worried about you just now!" A pause. "You wanna talk about it?"

Lance purses his lips, small grin in place. "It was about..." he hesitates. Could he really call that Hell hole home anymore?

_Anthony._

"...home. That's all. Nothing new."

"Well, I'm sure we can go back someday-"

"No." Lance blinks at Hunk and his glare softens at his hurt expression.

"Why not?"

"Just don't wanna talk about it," he mumbles before sticking the toothbrush in his mouth. "A'll be out in a min'it."

"All right. Find us in the training room. How's your wrist, by the way?"

Takes the brush out, "It was just a hairline fracture, Hunk. You put me in a healing pod; I'm good." Puts it back in 

Wordlessly, Hunk nods and leaves. Lance brushes his teeth hard, some sort of paste dispensing from the brush automatically. He can't help but glare at his reflection in the mirror.

He spits out the paste then throws the brush at a wall. His nose burns and his vision is blurry, but he wipes at his eyes to clear them. 

He's fine.

He's strong.

Lance takes a deep breath then exits the bathroom. He is the last to make it to the training room.

"How are you?" Keith asks. His eyebrows are furrowed, and Lance suddenly doesn't want to be near anyone. Their worry is suffocating, looks weighing him down. Keith and him have grown together, a brotherly relationship now. Rather than actual fighting, it's more of siblings purposefully antagonizing the other. "We heard you had a nightmare."

"Is that so?" Lance smiles a bit; he's gotten too good at being someone he's not. "I'm fine, Keith. No need to worry."

"I wasn't worried," Keith grumbles. Lance's face must make a pained expression, for Keith backtracks. "I'm kidding! I was; I am. I want you to be okay."

_I know._

"I know."

Allura walks in as Lance ruffles Keith's hair a bit.

"Paladins!" She smiles pleasantly. "Today we are doing mind melding."

Lance freezes, doesn't realize he tugging on Keith's hair too hard. He hears a faint sound of discomfort and lets go. Pidge stares at him concerned as Keith rubs his head.

"S-sorry." Lance clears his throat. "Any specific melding?"

"Yes!" Allura claps excitedly. "A new exercise by Pidge! We will be able to see each other's deepest fears."

Lance keeps his face blank and voice flat as he asks, "Why do we need to know these things?"

"To help us grow," Shiro answers with a firm nod. "And to avoid these things."

"I'm away from the thing I'm most afraid of," Lance nearly growls. Allura frowns at him.

"No matter, Lance, and that doesn't apply. You're all fighting an army. You'll go last, if you'd like."

He wants to keep fighting, doesn't want to do this. But he reluctantly agrees, eventually. He doesn't really have a choice in the matter.

Keith goes first. As it turns out, he's not able able to see them.

"Guys?!"

"Calm down, Keith," Allura commands. "We can see you but you can't see us."

They all watch themselves burn in a raging fire. Keith is held helpless by Shiro, who holds Keith from jumping into the white fire himself.

And suddenly, Lance is thrown into his own.

"What's going on?" He mutters, looking around. He's in his castleroom, it seems. "The Hell? I thought we get to decide when we wanna go!"

"I put it on randomized because I knew you'd find a way out of it," is what he hears. He can't see her, but he knows it's Pidge.

"You don't understand," Lance starts. Anxiety rises to his chest. "Please pull me out."

"No, buddy," Hunk says. "I know it, now everyone else needs to."

_You don't know, you don't know, you don't **know-**_

The door opens, revealing Anthony. He saunters into the room, wearing an orange jumpsuit with handcuffs. It's the last thing Lance had seen him in.

Hunk makes a sound of confusion and Lance is frozen in place. He feels a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck as Anthony approaches.

Lance has a good head on him now, more muscle. But he feels weak suddenly seventeen all over again. He's shaking, he knows. Practically vibrating in place, tears burning in the corners of his eyes. A small and choked sob makes its way from his throat when Anthony places a hand on his cheek.

Why can't he fucking _move?_

"Is he afraid of Anthony being hurt?" He hears Hunk whisper.

"Then why is he in his room?" Shiro retorts. "In a prison jumpsuit?"

"Lance," Anthony cooes. "I've missed you. Why haven't you visited me?"

"I fucking hate you," Lance hisses. He manages to get a foot to move backwards. "Get the Hell away from me."

Anthony easily breaks the handcuffs with a frown. "I thought you loved me?"

Lance blinks and he's back in his room from his house. The last time he's seen it, the deep green changed to a Tiffany blue. Lance frantically glances around, feet still glued to the floor. Another blink and a king sized bed is the only thing in the room. It's in the center, stripped bare. The mattress is stained with blood and other bodily fluids.

He would know; it's how his father found out about it in the first place.

He's hyperventilating now, chest heaving. His legs are tingling and his tears roll down like razor blades down his cheeks. He's wants it to be over, overx  _over-_

Lance can't move again, only stare terrified as Anthony grins at him. The one he got whenever he planned to do something filthy. His body moves on its own accord as he swings a punch. It should've hit Anthony hard yet instead, he disappears into thin air. Lance feels strong hands push him from behind and he stumbles despite his usual agility. 

He lands face first on the bed dressed in the Garrison uniform, jumping to flip over on his back. Anthony stands at the end of the bed, a sinister grin splitting his face. He strolls over to Lance and the bed is like a magnet; he wants to move, run away, kick at him.

But he can't.

Anthony unbuckles one of his Garrison issued boots. Lance can only vaguely hear Pidge shout, "End simulation!" 

He moves onto the next shoe.

"Every part of you is so beautiful," Anthony whispers. He prods at Lance's toes leisurely after the boot falls to the ground. "Always was, Kitten."

Lance shudders violently with horrific thoughts, a silent plea for help falling into the air. He shuts his eyes as tight as possible when he sees Anthony reach for his zipper.

"End the fucking simulation, Katie!" Keith shouts. It all sounds like it's underwater as Lance's eyes fly open. Anthony unbuttons Lance's pants tugging them down in a smooth sweep.

He literally tears through his boxers and Lance is naked from the waist down. Anthony nods in satisfaction with a hum.

"So tight for me, Lancey," he whispers. Lance jolts when he feels a nose at his ass. "And already so hard."

He isn't, knows he isn't, but it's something Anthony used to say. As if to deluxe himself.

"Mama," he sobs, and he knows he looks gross, red faced with snot and tears. "I want my Mom!"

"Oh, it's okay, sweetheart. I'll take care of you." Lance can feel the wicked smirk on Anthony's mouth before he pulls away.

"Get away-"

Anthony jams his tongue into Lance's mouth. He's starting to feel that odd blackness. It slows him down with thinking, and he has to blink a few times to get his senses back. Then he bites down. Anthony reels away, blood spilling from his mouth. 

He still can't fucking move.

Anthony glares intensely at Lance as he backs away. All too fast, Anthony aligns himself, slams his hand down on Lance's throat, and thrusts in. A scream rips through Lance's throat, a blinding pain blooming from everywhere on his body. His eyes shut in reflex.

The pain disappears and he feels the steady weight of clothes on his bottom half. He opens his eyes, only able to see white. He scrambles backwards on his hands, crying still. He moves until his back hits a corner and he curls in on himself.

He's shaking, and can't see, and he doesn't know where he is.

A hand tentatively touches his shoulder. Lance lashes out, instinctively throwing a blind punch. It hits and there's a grunt of pain. Lance closes his eyes again, whimpering.

Lance doesn't know how long it takes for him to be able to hear again.

"-happened?! What the fuck, Katie!"

"I-I'm s-s-sorry!" A girl is crying, barely getting the words out.

"This is unacceptable! Did you not fucking test this machine?!" Another man shouts. His voice has a commanding lilt and Lance flinches out of reflex.

"Blame me, not her! It's not her fault, it was my idea!" A woman this time, with an air of authority. They're too loud.

"Then you should be fucking ashamed of yourself! You call yourself a fucking princess?! Maybe ten thousand years made you lose your ability to be a fucking decent human being!"

"Do not speak to the princess that way!" A man with an odd accent.

_"YOU CAN TELL ME THAT AFTER YOU'RE RAPED IN FRONT OF YOUR ENTIRE TEAM!"_

The room is suddenly filled with a cacophony of arguing, everyone talking at the same time. A loud whine makes its way up from his throat and it falls silent.

Lance cracks open his eyes blearily. Keith, Shiro, Hunk, Pidge, Allura, and Coran stand in the middle of the training room, eyes wide. It takes a moment for him to get his bearings. His team approaches slowly.

Keith has a bloody nose, the blood dry on his face. "Lance? Are you with us?"

"I..." His voice is hoarse. He glances around, eyes flitting around. "No. No no no. Leave me alone."

"Buddy," Hunk starts, "why didn't you tell me?"

"Fuck you," he hisses. "Fuck you for not being able to tell when I can't handle something. Fuck Pidge for not testing something before trying it out. Fuck Allura for coming up with the idea in the first place! Fuck Shiro for agreeing with this! Fuck Coran for sticking up for Allura!

"Keith-" He stops, trembling too much to continue. He stands suddenly, startling everyone, then bolts from the room.

No-one tries to stop him, and for that, he's grateful.

He doesn't think he's hated people more than he hates the majority of them right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh noes
> 
> :)
> 
> He had no reason to be mad at Keith, that's why he didn't say anything btws


	3. Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're not the only one with family!" Pidge snaps. Lance lets her slap him across the face. He's almost numb to it, to anything, at the moment. "I'm just a kid, Lance! You can't--"
> 
> "Rip the bandaid off!" Lance roars, standing from the chair required to access the maps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will any of these chapters stay happy??
> 
> Probably not lol

He hasn't slept in what might be four days. He can't, because he started hallucinating after two days of insomnia. Right now, he can see Anthony dressed as Galra, a gun in his hand. He doesn't say anything, instead standing next to the door like a guard.

Lance can almost feel him when he goes to the kitchen to get food when no-one else is there. Marching behind his back, making no sounds. He's so tired.

Out of all the things the team could've thought of, or even a regal woman like Allura, their thinking strayed to revealing their fears. How does that even work?

Lance locks the door behind himself before he sinks into his bed. The bowl slips from his hands with how badly he's shaking. He watches as the goop spills like gel onto the floor, spork sticling upright. The bowl skids across the room and ends up near the door. Anthony looks at it, seemingly debating whether or not he should pick it up.

The guy can't, though, because he's not fucking real.

He's not sure how he gets absorbed in just staring at the bowl. It isn't until a soft knock on his door pulls him from his reverie. He's about to shout some pretty insulting things before Keith's voice reaches his ears.

"It's--It's Keith." His voice is small, something Lance hasn't heard before. "I'm alone. Can we talk?"

Lance doesn't know whether or not the words "Come in" are croaked out of his throat. Keith walks in and, wow, he doesn't look good.

"Thanks," Keith says. His smile is small and guilty but he has nothing to be guilty about.

"What?" His voice is hoarse, not from not using it, but from all the screaming he hurls at the shitty hallucination pointing a gun at Keith's head.

"You said I don't look good..." Keith trails off, crossing his arms and hunching his shoulders. It's a defensive stance, not necessarily hostile, but prepared. "Anyways, uh. I'm worried about you. We're all worried about you."

Lance feels too tired to be truly angry. "What, because we can't form Voltron when a teammate is rightfully pissed at his crew?"

Maybe he's not.

Keith winces and the harsh tone that his voice took on dies. "You didn't do anything wrong, Keith."

"I did," he retorts and nods, and he's blinking rapidly. "I could've protested more, or, or--I don't know, Lance. I could have tried to at least stop it. Stop from even beginning."

"Another reason why I think Shiro is a clone," Lance hisses. Keith lets out a huff of laughter but Lance doesn't see the humor in his statement. "No, listen. Like, actually let this sink in. What kind of leader would just--just exploit their team's weaknesses? You were a better Black Paladin and even then, you were shitty without me."

Keith seems bewildered for a second before his shoulders relax. "Sure, Lance."

"Hey, don't go... entertaining me. Really think about it."

"You're not okay. Can you talk to me?"

Lance doesn't say anything, instead returning his gaze to the bowl on the floor. He hasn't stopped shaking. Maybe he should just get it over with, off himsel--

"When was the last time you showered?" Keith asks. It's a genuine question. "You don't look well."

"Earlier today," he says flatly. "I know I look like shit." He looks up abruptly into Keith's lightly startled eyes. "What did you come here for?"

"Because we miss you," Keith repeats gently. "You--you have to realize that they didn't do it on purpose. They were trying to make us stronger--"

"They were trying to paralyze us!" Lance snaps. He feels a tension headache brewing behind his eyes. "I don't fucking understand their thinking. They went too far with this bull--"

"That wasn't my biggest fear," Keith interupts hastily, like he knows what Lance was going to say and wouldn't like it. "I just redirected it."

Lance stares at him; Keith continues.

"It was one of my biggest fears, but not the absolute biggest. You know I love you, right? All of y'all." Lance nods. "It's just... I have these dreams, not directed at any battles or anything. One by one, you guys explain why I'm a disgrace or just bash on my insecurities.

"It starts with people that mean kind of less to me--not in a bad way. Like friends, close friends, family, et cetera. So it goes Coran, Allura, Hunk, Pidge, and then... both you and Shiro gang up on me. You're both so important to me in different ways. It hurts, and when I see you guys it hurts even more. That's it. That's mine."

Lance licks his lips, opens his mouth. "You know we'd never do that kind of thing, right?"

"It's just my anxiety. I know but at the same time, I don't." Keith is looking everywhere but into Lance's eyes. They keep drifting to his arms and torso.

"Maybe you need cuddles?" Lance asks and the little amusement he finds in his own words bleeds into his voice. Keith frowns. "I'm not laughing at you, just that I asked that question in the first place."

"Do you?" Keith asks. He voice is rough and thick. "'Cause, you know, if you need it--"

He doesn't need it. In fact, the last thing he wants right now is to be touched at all. But Keith is his friend and Lance has always been one self-sacrificing son of a bitch.

"C'mere," Lance says. Keith surges forward and wraps his arms around Lance's neck carefully. He's literally sitting in his lap, knees dipping into the bed on both sides of Lance's hips. Lance curls his arms around Keith, rubbing soothing circles into his back. "Why're you so sad?"

"Well, for one, what I told you really hurts and it's not even that deep," Keith says, tone shaky. "For two, you barely said anything about it. And for three, I feel so bad that I couldn't do anything."

Lance stalls, filling the silence with quiet humming. He hears Keith ask, "Why are you shaking?" but ignores it.

"Wanna know the fear that Hunk was talking about?" Lance says instead. Keith nods into his shoulder. "Water."

At that, Keith pulls back to look Lance in the eye. "What?"

"I'm afraid of water," Lance repeats. Then, "at least, I was when I was fourteen. This group of kids nearly drowned me. Got over it pretty fast but at the time, that's what I had told Hunk. It's what I kept telling him. When I showed up to school with bruises on my jaw or hands, I'd say something like 'I was trying to avoid walking near the lake but tripped.' I never gave him a reason for doubt, so. He thought he knew. Guess he never really thought about it when we went to that planet with the mermaids."

Keith scowls. "Wish I could beat the shit out of that man."

"So do I. But life isn't very fair, now, is it?" He bites his lips for a moment. "Keith, I'm really tired."

In almost an instant, Keith is off of him and heading backwards towards the door. "R-right, sorry! If you want me to g--"

Lance latches onto his wrist, panic rising in his chest. "Don't go."

"Then what do you want me to do?"

"I'm, uh," he says dumbly. Anthony has unsheathed a knife and is pointing it at Keith. "I haven't slept in really long and I'm hallucinating real bad. Um. I know that it won't really help, maybe, but could you stay by my bed while I sleep? It's the noon cycle, right?"

Keith nods, "Yeah, sure. It is; I was actually gonna go train with the team afterwards if you wanted to be left alone."

"You can go if you want."

"No, the fuck? I'll protect you from what ever you're seeing." Keith activates his bayard and squints, looking around the room. "Come fight me, bitch."

Anthony is crouching, narrowing his eyes at Keith. Lance can't help but to let out a dry laugh.

"Why do you have your bayard on you now?" Lance asks as he shuffles to lay down on his side. He's on his left, watching Keith stalk around the room suspiciously as Anthony jumps from spot to spot. He pulls the blanket up to his chin. Maybe this will help him sleep. "You're so weird."

Keith smirks at him. "I love you, Lance; my homie."

"Leave your lingo back where it belongs in the past with your hairstyle."

"Brotha from anotha motha."

Lance wrinkles his nose, making a gagging noise. He falls asleep to the sound of Keith chuckling to himself.

 

When he awakes, Keith and Anthony are gone. He doesn't know what time it is and doesn't bother to check as he rolls out of bed. Lance goes into the bathroom and nods in approval when he sees that he no longer looks like a corpse. Maybe he does, though. He can't tell.

It takes a moment for him to psych himself up. Unhurried, he strips off his pajama pants in trade for gray sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. He just barely manages to drag himself out of his room and head to the dining room.

Lance thanks the God he doesn't believe in when he hears nothing from the hallway. Maybe they're done eating and he missed the meal. It takes him by surprise when he sees the team eating silently. He stops in the doorway, frozen by the way they all stare at him. Keith speaks up first with false cheerfulness.

"Good morning, sunshine!"

"Isn't it like dinner time," Lance mumbles grumpily.

He heads over to the kitchen, a garlic-esque smell emanating from the direction. They're blue disks with a sprinkling of orange on top that give off a faint scent similar to oregano. He picks one up and bites into it, frowns when he finds it tastes like cheesecake.

Lance throws the cookie out, opting for plain goo instead. He slumps next to Keith, whom ruffles Lance's already messy hair. Lance glares at him.

"No, you fuckin' broken crockpot. Don't touch me," Lance says. In a softer voice, he mutters, "Please, don't. I'm not ready."

"I won't," Keith says quietly. "I'm sorry." Hunk clears his throat but Lance continues to stare into indigo-gray eyes. A bucket of gratefulness is dumped into his very being.

"I tried to make them taste like garlic knots but the smell greatly contradicts..." Hunk's voice grates on his ears and, he's sad to say it but, he's glad when he trails off into silence.

"Will you ever forgive us?" Pidge asks. Her voice is thick and Lance tears his eyes away from Keith to lock on to her. She flinches though Lance can't find it in himself to feel bad about it. "I'm so sorry--"

"No matter how much you say sorry, it won't prove anything. It just shows that you can very simply articulate the fact that you feel regret." Lance takes a steady breath, absentmindedly poking his food. "I'll accept your apology, but I'll never forgive you. There's a difference."

Pidge looks crestfallen; Shiro clears his throat. "I know you're compromised at the moment. Therefore, despite the fact that we have a Universe to save--" Lance scowls at the wording and tone, "--we will take a vacation."

"Where to?" Lance asks, eyes drifting back towards his bowl.

"Earth."

But Lance knows. Earth isn't there any longer, not really. Just a crusted, hollow chunk of rock floating through space. As if he hadn't looked at recent star systems, tracked down his home.

"Earth is dead. Gone." Lance lifts his utensil, watching as the alien silverware becomes almost rainbow hued at certain angles. "It's been dead for a while."

"What do you mean?" Hunk asks. He sounds close to crying and it causes Lance to fix his gaze onto him. "Dead?"

"It's lifeless."

"I don't believe you," Pidge whispers.

And maybe--maybe Lance is being a cold and heartless asshole when he makes a gesture for the team to follow him. Into a subroom within the constellation gallery. There, he searches the direct coordinates of Earth.

It's even worse than what he previously thought. The planet is in chunks, barely held together. Farther out, Jupiter and Neptune are dying. Their star burns all the same.

"How--I don't--" Hunk takes in a heaving breath. "Oh, God."

"Ever watch _Interstellar?"_ Lance asks. Surprisingly, Shiro is the only one who nods. "Coupled with Garrison education, you should be able to link what happened together.

"Pidge isn't the only smart one here, you know?" Lance adds. "I got in on a physics and math scholarship. I had to get into Fighter Pilot to study ships up close. Partly why I was so sucky at it at first. I knew, deep down, that Earth would die before we did. So I kept tabs. It would be our second Earth week when the planet was devoid of life."

It's silent for all of ten seconds.

"You're not the only one with family!" Pidge snaps. Lance lets her slap him across the face. He's almost numb to it, to anything, at the moment. "I'm just a kid, Lance! You can't--"

 _"Rip the bandaid off!"_ Lance roars, standing from the chair required to access the maps. It clatters to the floor. "We all had to grow up faster than we would've liked! Some faster than others!" He gestures wildly to Keith and Shiro. "Don't play the fucking Kid Card with me, Katie! I'm a kid, too." His voice cracks in the last word and his vision goes blurry. "Better knowing now than hoping against hope that there's something to return to."

Shiro, as fucking usual, stands up for Pidge. No, that's not right. Lance is just mad, and aggravated, and so fucking irrational.

Or maybe not.

"Lance," Shiro starts. Lance closes his eyes tight, rolling his shoulders. "Pidge, too. This is devastating, I know. But you can't treat each other like this. And Lance, Pidge was just--"

"Oh, but you can bring up our worst fears?" Lance fires back, eyes flying open. "You can let Pidge test out her new gadgets on us? Let each and every one of us suffer as you stand by and watch? Fuck you, Shiro."

Rightfully affronted, Shiro narrows his eyes at Lance and takes a step forward. "It was for the better--"

"Better of what?" Keith interrupts. "Our trust in each other? If anything, it compromises it. We should tell those things voluntarily, on our own. This was a terrible idea, all of it."

"We understand that now," Allura says, clearly agitated. Lance directs his watery gaze at her. "We're sorry."

"You can all take your apologies and shove them up your fucking asses," Lance hisses before shoving through a space between Shiro and Allura. They let him stomp out of the room.

 

His legs carry him to the training room. He doesn't bother to put on his armor as he presses his hand to a panel on the wall. It opens with a hiss, a glass casing around it, blurry.

"Lance," he murmurs. The glass rotates to find his specialty weapons. It used to only be guns, but he's gotten better. He has long and close range weapons now, on level with Keith when it comes to hand-to-hand.

He kicks off his shoes and tosses them towards the door. His eyes scan the weaponry as he lets his jacket fall from his shoulders.

He's in a throwing knives kind of mood.

He grabs two types; one has four and is attatched to his wrist with a rubbery substance and manages to never backlash--the others are normal, though made of pure energy and produced by a small materializer. It was a gift from the Red Lion when he had briefly piloted her.

"Begin sequence, level ten," he calls.

Three gladiators drop from the ceiling; he names them A, B, and C. Lance shoves the materializer into his pocket and expertly throws one attatched to his wrist. With deadly precision, it pierces through the B's neck and wraps around it, gun falling to the floor. He tugs on the cord, hard, and brings it closer before throwing another dagger at Gladiator A, who is closest to his left. It drops the battle axe in its hand.

B, throat all but gone, falls through the floor. The other dagger doesn't pierce through, instead coiling around the legs rapidly. Lance detaches the knife and ducks, barely dodging a throwing star thrown at his head by C.

He simply needs to picture the energy dagger into his hand. He's about to throw it but then A grabs one of his legs. He falls to the ground yet still manages to throw three daggers with insane precision. C gets hit in the middle of its forehead, its chest, and the abdomen. It falls to the floor just as A grabs the axe that it dropped. The grip around Lance's ankle is still tight.

Lance can't seem to break free. He rolls to his side, just barely missing a fatal hit to his stomach. Instead of trying to rise, A seems content to beat Lance on the floor. Another dagger and Lance drives it through the robot's wrist. It detaches, and both Lance and A stand.

An idea springs into his mind before he charges. He throws an elastic dagger and A blocks it, as expected. Lance vaults himself upwards, grabbing the dagger it deflected and pulling it around its neck. It bucks but trips over the ankles that are still bound.

A still thrashed but Lance ties the cord around its neck to the wrapped ankle wire. Like a dying fish, it struggles and flails as Lance pants and steps away. He lets an energy knife appear in his hand.

The bot rolls onto its side and he goes in for the kill. He stabs into its abdomen, repeatedly and furiously.

"I fucking hate this place," he growls as he guts the AI. The inner mechanisms bubble out oil and fake organs. His hand is covered in liquids of neon blue and gold; it smells like rotten oranges. Lance doesn't notice the tears making rivers down his face. "I can't even go home anymore."

The bot falls through the floor. Lance rips the daggers off and throws the materializer at the wall.

He stares at the knives on the floor, gleaming with fake blood, before he takes a gasping breath. He doesn't bother to grab his shoes or jacket as he races out of the room.

It's dark in the halls.

It's dark in his mind.

It's dark in his heart.

It's dark _everywhere._

Lance barely makes it into his room before heaving his lack of dinner onto the floor. It's just bile. He's eaten once today and maybe it's for the best.

He's not sure about how long he stays on his hands and knees hovering above his own sick. There's a sudden pressure at his back and he flinches violently, trying to move away but his hand slips from the oil and lands in his vomit.

Lance is trembling, he knows. Wide-eyed, he looks to where the hand would have been. There's nothing there, his door is closed as he left it. More tears well up in his eyes and he whimpers, curling in on himself.

The sobs are loud and they hurt to come out.

Maybe he deserves this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long!! I've been pretty depressed lately so... yah
> 
> Comments!
> 
> ((Did you notice how many times I used the word 'maybe'?)(Poor baby doubts himself so much))


	4. I’m Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drip of stray water rolls down his neck. He barely manages not to flinch. He opens the kitchen door and sighs in relief when he finds it’s empty. There’s a plate of what looks like nachos where he usually sits. He walks over to it and holds a hand above the food.
> 
> Cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I updated

Lance wasn't expecting it to happen again. He should have known, really. Sometimes, for someone that manages he could get into the Garrison with flying colors, he questions his own intelligence.

It was during the summer. The Garrison had been moved from Cuba to Arizona, which really sucked. But at least Lance could still visit his family during breaks. Besides, Cuba had become an official territory of the United States.

They were all at the beach.

Despite wanting to spend time in the water, he wasn't allowed. He was on Shallow End™ duty for the little kids. 

Lance decided to let Miranda handle the kids for a bit.

"I have to use the bathroom," he said.

"I'm only ten, uncle Lance!" she whined. "C'mon -- "

"You want me to pee in the water you play in?" Lance said. Miranda shuddered before pouting and crossing her arms.

"Fine," she said. Lance levelled her with a hard stare. She uncrossed her arms. "Sorry. I'll watch out. Why not let Simon do it?"

"Because Simon is the devil reincarnate." Lance bent and kissed the top of Miranda's head before turning to the left. He walked a few steps towards the shop.

He jumped slightly when a hand landed on his shoulder. He looked from the pale hand to the face it belongs to. He tried not to let his shoulder tense, aware his family was still in sight. His attacker walks with him.

Lance had not seen Anthony since after the incident until that day. It had been about two months. Lance hadn't been infected and he was eternally grateful for that. The vaccine had hurt like a bitch but had been worth it.

The vaccine was strong and made those who had taken it completely immune to getting HIV/AIDS. He had to get another one in ten months.

"Just to make sure," his mother had said with a smile. His father had been disappointed that he hadn't used protection.

"Hi," Lance said. He cleared his throat then clenched his teeth when Anthony gave a small grin. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Right?" Anthony said. His thumb rubbed small circles in Lance's shoulder. Lance gritted his teeth together enough to hurt. "It's a shame."

"I think it's for the better," Lance said. Briefly, Anthony's hand bit down harder into his shoulder before it relaxed again.

"I couldn't help but notice you're quiet today, Lance," Anthony said. He smiled, the one he used to get what he wanted. "Why so serious?"

"Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na," Lance muttered from underneath his breath. "What a fucking joke."

"Excuse me?" Anthony grabbed his wrist roughly but they didn't stop. Lance's eyes flickered to the shack with the restrooms then he side-eyed Anthony. He was so close; maybe if he screams.

"I said," Lance started, "you're a fucking joke. Let go of me."

They were too far away for their family to hear anything. Lance could only faintly see them.

"Would you like a repeat of last time?" Anthony spat as he stopped their walk and turned Lance to face him. Lance feels his chest goes cold. "That looks like a _yes_ to me. Keep acting up, I dare you."

"Go to fucking Hell," Lance hissed then yanked his wrist from Anthony. He sprinted to the shack and entered without preamble. The clerk looked startled.

 _"¿Estás bien? ¿Que necesitas?"_  he asked. Lance shook his head and tried his best to look nonchalant.

" _Estoy bien. ¿Puedo usar el baño en tu tienda?"_

The cashier hands him the keys for the restroom with a concerned grin. 

" _¿Llama a la policía?"_

" _¡No no! Estoy bien."_

Lance rushed to the bathroom, unlocked it, and shut the door quickly. He took a deep breath and braced himself on the sink. A shudder wracked through his body and he swallowed down a whimper.

He was scared.

The bathroom door opened with a slam — he forgot to lock it. 

A furious Anthony stood in the doorway, lips curled. 

He reaches out —

Lance wakes with a gasp, clutching at his chest. There's a sickening scent that clouds his nostrils. He looks down at his hands and everything begins to rush back to him. With a disgusted grunt, he unfurls his body and sits up. No-one came to check on him, he guesses. He stands on weak legs and strips.

After cleaning the mess up with hidden cleaning supplies, Lance sends his clothes down the laundry chute. He secures a towel around his waist and leaves his room. 

As he makes his way through the hall, he notices that it’s eerily silent. He doesn’t really care, though, as he reaches the shower room.

Not even the leaky pipe from the fourth shower stall makes a noise. Lance drops his towel and makes his way into the first one. The water is hot, and it reminds him of the constant burning of Anthony’s hands, so he hurriedly sets it to the coldest possible setting. It feels like ice cubes as it runs down his body.

Skipping the face wash, he instead scrubs as his skin with the harshest soap they have on the ship. As it washes off, he briefly washes his face with water before pouring hair cleanser directly onto his head. Idly, he hums _Jesus Christ_. It’s — accurate, now.

 _”...how could you let me burn...”_ he mumbles. 

Once everything has been washed off of him, he taps the drain twice with his foot so it shuts off. He leaves the room without grabbing his towel. Something has him sprinting back to his room, though he’s not sure what; he nearly falls on the slippery floor four times. He locks the door once he reaches his room. 

On the bright side, it no longer smells like vomit.

After putting on boxers, Lance pulls on the thickest pair of sweatpants and the thickest longsleeve he has. It reaches just a bit past his finger tips. Thin socks, so at least he feels something that grounds him.

His eyes well up rapidly and tears spill down his face. He wipes the tears away slowly. They disappear just as suddenly as they came.

The clothes, with how thick they are, make him feel comfortable enough to leave his room. It took thirty minutes, but still, better than staying in there all day.

His feet make no noise at he trudges to the kitchen — stealth training from Shiro had it ingrained into his head. The name makes him shiver and a pit of nausea makes its way into his stomach. He tries to think of something else. At this point, he can only stand thinking of Keith.

A drip of stray water rolls down his neck. He barely manages not to flinch. He opens the kitchen door and sighs in relief when he finds it’s empty. There’s a plate of what looks like nachos where he usually sits. He walks over to it and holds a hand above the food.

Cold.

Lance picks the plate up and brings it to the garbage compartment. He empties the food into the container and places the plate in the sanitizer.

He grabs a bowl and fills it with goo, grabs a spork, then sits at his seat around the table. Mechanically, he shovels it into his mouth. The familiar salty taste reminds him of when they first got away from home. When things were better.

Where everything didn’t remind him of Anthony.

He dips his spork into his bowl only for the utensil to clink against the porcelain. There’s no more goo, and honestly, Lance doesn’t think he could handle any more. The knot of vomit-inducing anxiety has grown despite the silence.

Though Lance doesn’t want anyone around him at the moment, and he’s grateful for the silence, chills still travel through him. Whenever it was silent in the house, that’s when Anthony would come. In the dead of night, or if Lance was alone.

_I'm alone._

Lance stands abruptly, heart racing. Then palpitations start, leading to him clutching reverently at his chest. He stumbles out of the dining room and rushes to the healing pods. He doesn't want anything bad to happen while the team is gone. That means they'll find him, dead, somewhere in the castle.

As he panics, he forgets how to open them, and instead bangs on the glass. Pressing down on the left side of his ribcage, Lance stumbles into the glass of the pod and crashes into the floor. The hiccups in his heart _hurt_ , and he knows he needs to calm down, but.

_I'm alone..._

A particularly long pause in his heart strangles a cry out of him as fat tears roll down his cheeks. He whimpers -

_I'm..._

\- and passes out.

 

Anthony had brought condoms. He said it was because he was worried about infecting Lance again.

He said it after pushing Lance into the sink, which left a large bruise for two weeks on the small of his back.

After placing his hand around Lance's throat, cutting off his air supply as he struggled.

After he forcefully yanked Lance out of his swim trunks.

After Anthony finished and _gingerly_ pulled out of Lance despite the previous rape scene and injuries; stands him up.

Lance was groggy as he came out of his dissociation. He called Anthony delusional.

Anthony said Lance should be grateful he was considerate enough to think of him.

Lance tried to punch him in the throat; missed.

Anthony back handed him.

Lance fell and hit his head on the sink hard enough for a jagged cut to take place on his head, beneath his hair.

Anthony was cursing at himself and Lance.

Picks Lance up.

The cashier looked concerned as they rushed out of the store.

Takes him to the hospital without anyone knowing.

Lance wonders if Miranda and the rest of the kids are okay.

 

Lance comes to on the floor in front of a healing pod. His heart is beating steadily once again, though faster considering he had another nightmare. His left hand is sore and red with how hard he was beating the glass. He peeks under his shirt and sees raised scratches from where he was grabbing his chest as well as a lot of blood. He touches one and it stings. A couple of them have broken skin.

On surprisingly sturdy legs, Lance manages to walk to the separate infirmary. It's small, for minor injuries only. He rummages through the cabinet until he finds a healing salve and scar-preventing cream. A little more and he finds antiseptic. 

He catches a whiff of blood as he shrugs out of his shirt. He lets it fall on the floor and stares blankly at it for a moment, taking in how the shirt had absorbed blood.

How hard was he scratching?

Lance gets to work, biting his lip as he cleans the wounds, hissing through his teeth as he applies the salve and cream, clenching his jaw when he bandages his chest tight.

At least it stopped bleeding after rubbing the salve into the cuts.

Lance wanders the castle absently, pulse still a bit too fast and skin too hot. The blood on the shirt has congealed but not dried, sticking to his bandage and skin. Despite his haggard appearance, he can't seem to care. He feels like a canvas that was primed only for an artist to give up halfway through the painting,

No shading.

Just flat colors.

As Lance roams, he comes across the airlock that had almost shot him into space. He remembers fondly how he and Keith berated each other before they both came to the same conclusion. The vacuum had been incredibly strong and Lance had been surprised that Keith managed to pull him out. Now, though...

There would be no-one to pull Lance out.

He knows his train of thought is heading nowhere good as his feet carry him to the hatch. Lance grips the opening tightly as his other hand presses the button to open the airlock. With a heavy whir and clicking sound, it opens. It tugs at him heavily, and Lance holds on to the opening with both hands.

Then he lets go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))))
> 
> The end
> 
> Comments keep me alive

**Author's Note:**

> Me while writing this, sobbing: why do I put my baby through so much pain I'm so sorry Lance I love you the most I wanna see you happy I'm such trash forgive me Lancey Lance for I have sinned
> 
> I'm actually not the greatest at writing in general but?? 
> 
> Angst is especially worse because how can I move readers if I can't make myself cry?
> 
> Anyways. COMMENTS MAKE ME RLY HAPPY


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